


Who's Wrong Baby Who's Right

by dreamlittleyo



Series: One Step Up 'Verse [3]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mindfuck, Non Consensual, Rape, Rough Sex, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate sequel to <b><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/185556">Another Battle in Our Dirty Little War</a></b>. Sam doesn't escape the Gaming Grid. Clu decides to keep him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's Wrong Baby Who's Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daunt/gifts).



"How many times do we have to do this?" Clu asks. His finger traces an intimate line along Sam's jaw, his throat, his collarbone.

"Fuck you," Sam says, but his knees are bruised from the hard floor and he's shaking as he looks up at Clu.

He already knows he won't put up an overt fight. It never helps. But the longer he can cling to his lesser rebellions, the stronger he'll feel after, when the shame sets in.

He'll give in eventually. He always does. Clu knows just what buttons to push to take him apart, and instead of growing accustomed—instead of getting used to the calculated assault of sensation—Sam finds his resistance crumbling faster and faster every time.

He has to get out of here. He's not sure how much of him is even left these days.

"You know better than to talk to me that way, kiddo," Clu says. His mouth is curled up in a teasing smirk. His fingers ghost idle patterns along the hollow of Sam's throat. He's fucking with the code beneath Sam's skin, too. Sam can tell from the way his own breath is going shallow, his face is flushing, fuck, his dick is getting hard—that can't all just be happening from the physical awareness of Clu's proximity.

"You think you've got so much power," Sam spits. He tries to ignore the feeling of his Gridsuit dissolving to nothing and leaving him naked in the chill of Clu's chambers. "You think you own everything. But it's only a matter of time before someone puts you in your place."

"And who's that going to be, Sam?" Clu asks, taking his hand from Sam's chest and derezzing just enough of his own attire to take his obviously interested cock in hand. "You? I think we both know you'd have put me in my place cycles ago if you were any match for me."

Clu doesn't even bother to tie him up anymore. Sam almost wishes he would.

Any retort Sam might have voiced is lost to the sudden press of Clu's cock past his lips. Clu guides himself deeper with one hand. His other hand is in Sam's hair, and Sam knows damn well that if he offers any resistance that hand will tighten into a fist and force him forward all the harder. Better to drop his jaw and accommodate willingly as Clu presses in.

Better to open his throat and swallow when Clu's cock just keeps sliding deeper.

Clu isn't always rough. Sometimes he takes it slow, as though he wants Sam to savor the experience. Sometimes he's eerily gentle, in a way that almost feels like affection, and Sam comes apart even faster than usual.

But today Clu must be in a Mood, because he fucks Sam's mouth with a raw intensity that leaves Sam struggling not to choke. Sam's gag reflex, so accustomed to being suppressed these days, is a constant distraction, and he clenches his eyes shut tightly and struggles to breathe in the moments between Clu's deepest thrusts.

When Clu finally stops—pulls out, lets him go—Sam curls to the side and coughs sharply, uneven breaths rattling in his throat. The sound makes him cringe, and when he swallows it feels rough and wrong.

Clu descends on him quickly, knocking Sam from his knees onto his back. The floor is unforgiving and cold beneath him. Sam's whole body trembles from the effort it takes not to push ineffectually at Clu's chest when Clu settles over him, weight bearing Sam down and cock still hard, nudging suggestively—intentionally—between Sam's legs as Clu makes himself comfortable in the space between Sam's thighs.

"Better?" Clu taunts warmly.

"Fuck you," Sam repeats. Clu laughs, and the sound shivers with malice.

"Not the way this goes, Sam," he says. "You already know that."

"I know you're a sick son of a bitch who wouldn't enjoy this nearly as much if you didn't have to take it by force."

"You call this 'force'?" Clu teases him darkly. A hand slips between their bodies and gives a single, firm stroke along Sam's cock before letting go in favor of gripping firmly, bruisingly at Sam's hip.

Sam curses. He really didn't need to be reminded that he's hard.

But he's not done fighting yet, and he says, "I sure as hell wouldn't call it consent." His voice is gruff in his own ears, the sound of willpower fraying before Clu has really even begun, but Sam grits his teeth and snaps, "If I say no, you'll just tie me up and fuck me even harder. So you tell _me_ what that makes this."

He can say the words all he wants. He can even believe them, most of the time. But then Clu hums noncommittally and, positioning his cock at Sam's entrance, finally fucks inside.

It's hard to remember what this really is when it feels so good.

" _Fuck_!" Sam gasps. His hands scramble ineffectually for something to hold onto—something besides Clu—and his fingers slip across the smooth black floor. Clu laughs—the son of a bitch _laughs_ —and drives his cock deeper in a quick, rough thrust. Sam bites his lower lip, swallowing back a grunt of pleasure—damned if Clu is going to hear him make those sounds if Sam has any say in the matter.

"Oh, Sam," Clu murmurs, pulling so far back that only the head of his cock is left inside, then grasping Sam's thighs with both hands and bucking forward as he drags Sam's body down along the unforgiving length. "Beautiful Sam," Clu groans into his ear—he knows damn well Sam hates being called that—as he begins to move in earnest, hard, jolting thrusts that jostle Sam along the floor. "You've had so many opportunities for escape. So many chances to take me down." Clu moans, and the sound sends a shiver along Sam's spine. "Yet here you are. Still. There's only one conclusion I can draw."

"Shut up," Sam gasps, eyes clenching shut.

It feels too good. Clu's cock filling him, thrusting out and in, broad and invasive and so, so perfect. Sam hates this. He hates the way his body craves this without his permission, leaves him struggling to remember that the last thing Sam wants is Clu fucking him.

Then Clu goes still. Clu's cock, suddenly motionless, twitches inside Sam, and Sam chokes on a sound that might be a sob.

He doesn't open his eyes. Not even when one of Clu's hands releases Sam's hip and braces instead on the floor beside Sam's shoulder, wrist brushing Sam's skin.

"Look at me," Clu says. His voice bears the intensity of command, and Sam can't help but obey.

He finds Clu staring down at him with a strange look in his eyes. There's something considering running beneath the power-hungry lust Sam is used to seeing cloud the program's gaze whenever he looks at Sam.

Sam doesn't speak. Somehow he knows better. That doesn't mean he wants to hear what Clu has to say.

"You want it to be rape," Clu says.

Sam flinches at the words, but doesn't drop his gaze.

"Admit it," says Clu. "You want this. But more than that, you want me to take it by force. That way you're absolved of guilt. You have someone else to blame."

"I hate you," Sam breathes. He means it. He knows Clu is wrong. But it's a little hard to keep that thought in his head when his whole body is screaming at him to _move_ , and get back to what they were doing a moment before.

"That doesn't mean you don't want me to fuck you," Clu says.

A hint of a smirk is threatening on his face now, and it's that more than anything else that grounds Sam. He pushes against Clu's chest with both hands, ineffectual but desperate. All it gets him is Clu's weight pinning him all the harder to the floor, Clu's hands wrapped tightly around his wrists, grinding the bones uncomfortably together.

"Stop fighting me, Sam," Clu says. His voice is surprisingly soft.

"Why?" Sam demands, jaw ticking with frustration and eyes widening. "Why is it so important for me to want this? What difference does it make? You still get what you want."

"Oh, Sam," Clu says, and this time there's something new and terrifying in his eyes. Something Sam might mistake for sadness if he didn't know better. "If you think your body is all I want, you're not as smart as I'd hoped."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Sam demands, stomach tightening unpleasantly and chest going cold.

But Clu moves again, then. He gives a single quick thrust, out and in, then starts in with renewed purpose, driving his cock deep and relentless into Sam's body.

Sam cries out as Clu's movements grow sharper—violent and rough and uneven—but even the pain that comes with Clu's harsher onslaught is nothing compared to the pleasure coursing through Sam's body as Clu's violation nears its completion.

Christ, how long has it been since Sam needed a hand anywhere near his cock in order to come?

A dozen cycles at least. Maybe longer.

He's gradually coming undone. At this rate it won't be long before Clu's arguments sound like the truth. It won't be long until all he knows is this—until all he _wants_ is exactly what Clu says he does. What if there's only so much resistance steeled in a man's psyche?

What if Sam is running out of his supply?

He's clinging to Clu now—he's not sure when that happened, but he's holding on tightly, desperately, fingers clutching at Clu like he's the only solid ground for miles.

Clu's orgasm is wordless. Sam feels it in the sudden stillness commanding Clu's body. He feels it in the slick, electric rush of liquid power filling him where Clu's cock is still buried deep. He feels it in the harsher bruises Clu's hands clutch into his hips.

Sam comes an instant later. He's never far behind Clu these days. He's not sure his body remembers any other way to respond to the sudden, wet inrush.

After, Clu is dead weight on top of him. Exhausted. Sated. Possessive. His spent cock still fills Sam's ass. His armor feels rough and heavy pressing into Sam's bare skin.

When Clu finally pulls out, Sam cringes at the slick, sore sensation. Clu braces some of his weight on one arm against the floor, and Sam breathes deeper, gasping when Clu's mouth closes on his throat and Clu bites down. Sam can feel the flesh between Clu's teeth bruising. He wonders if the program has made him bleed.

It wouldn't be the first time.

When Clu stands, his suit is completely intact. He looks like nothing at all untoward just happened. Like all he and Sam just shared was a friendly chat. Clu's face bears the same cryptic expression that darkened his features when they were fucking, and Sam still doesn't know what to make of it.

"I want you to think about what I said, Sam," Clu murmurs.

Before Sam can ask what he means, Clu turns and leaves the room.


End file.
